


Routine Mediations

by Xinbimodu



Category: Star Trek, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xinbimodu/pseuds/Xinbimodu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re orbiting Andros XI when the red alert goes off at a little after 0300.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine Mediations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iaddedarainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iaddedarainbow/gifts).



They’re orbiting Andros XI when the red alert goes off at a little after 0300.

Derek’s eyes snap open before the first peel of the alarm finishes sounding and is stumbling into a pair of oversized sweatpants by the beginning of the second.

He should have just stayed in sickbay and waited because, truth be told, he’d _known_ this was going to happen.

“Routine mediation my ass.”

His toes brush against the threadbare t-shirt he’d discarded before climbing in to bed two very short hours ago and, since he can't very well run to sickbay half naked--Boyd and his prudish Vulcan ways would probably have a heart attack--he quickly scoops it up and pulls it over his head. The door to his quarters slides open to let Derek out just as he’s about to break his nose against it and though the rush of activity in the corridor isn’t surprising it is an unwelcome sight.

A pair of medical personnel rush past carrying a kid on a stretcher and Derek sets off after them, growling out instructions not to jostle the kid as they make the short trip to sickbay. Derek vaguely recognizes the kid from engineering—Isaiah, Ishmael, something with an ‘I’— but is too distracted by the amount of blood gushing from his forehead to contemplate it further.

He’d never admit it to the Captain but sometimes he really _hates_ being right.

“Reyes! I needed a hypo of coagulant two minutes ago. Doctor Hale, let the nurses do their jobs and get scrubbed up. I need you in the O.R. now.”

Peter shakes his head at Derek in amused exasperation but does as requested.

“Try not to have an aneurism when the Captain gets here,” he says on his way past, the snicker in his voice something Derek will make sure to address later.

(Derek’s the Chief Medical Officer for a reason and though Peter is older and supposedly wiser there’s a reason he’s not in charge. He may be Derek’s uncle and colleague but there are certain lines that shouldn’t be crossed while they’re on duty, if ever, and Peter just waltzed all over one of them.)

“Someone, for the love of God, make sure that we’ve got the Captain’s dosages ready!” Derek yells over the noise, focusing on preparing for the inevitable instead of on the burning desire to put Peter in his place or the even more pressing need to track the Captain down and make sure he's safe. He’s on his way to find a regenerator when Derek nearly runs over a gaping Nurse and decides that he has other, more pressing, matters to deal with than Peter and his bonehead of a Captain--

“What the hell are you doing just standing around? Go help Doctor Hale and give me that scanner.”

\-- like chewing out his newest recruit. Poor thing. He obviously has no idea what he’s signed himself up for. Derek snatches the scanner out of his hands and does a quick pivot towards the ensign that he’d first seen outside of his quarters, even as a steady flow of bruised and battered people continue to make their way into his sickbay.

(So far they’re all dressed in red which, while annoying as hell when it comes to determining who’s bleeding and who isn’t, means something had to have exploded down in engineering. Thank heaven Scott, their Chief Engineer, isn't anywhere to be seen. There may be hope for them yet if the head of the department is still running around trying to fix whatever's been damaged instead of bleeding out on Derek's floor.)

Derek asks the kid his name in an attempt to keep him lucid and awake, considering his concussion is serious enough to have caused cerebral swelling, and when Ensign Isaac Lahey gives his slurred answer Derek starts in on the more personal ones like where his family is and whether or not he has a significant other because _goddamn it_ the kid is going to need a combination of fucking staples and old fashioned stitches. The regenerator is a fantastic piece of technology but it would close up Lahey’s head wound too fast to give his brain time to decrease in size and Derek’ll be damned if anyone is going to die on his watch tonight.

He’s halfway through yelling this out to Erica, who’s already sanitized both herself and her instruments and begun numbing the areas Derek hadn’t really needed to point out (because she’s a saint of a head nurse with a hell of a lot more foresight and common sense than half the nurses Derek is stuck babysitting), when a flurry of activity near the entrance to sickbay catches Derek’s eye.

Several crew-members from the away team are being hauled in on stretchers and though Derek’s busy patching up wounds and regenerating broken bones his stomach gives a miserable kick when he doesn’t spot the Captain among them.

An agonizing hour and about a million whimpering ensigns later Boyd, his science blues dark with blood, strides in carrying Stiles.

The Captain isn’t so much bleeding as oozing from a gash down the left side of his torso but Derek can feel his heart jack-hammering in relief against his chest as he asks, “Where the hell have the two of you been, Boyd? What happened?”

Derek yells at some poor ensign with a broken wrist to _get the fuck up_ off his biobed as the First Officer fills him in on the scant details of the ambush that had held him and the Captain up on their return to the ship. They spread Stiles out in Stupid Ensign No. 27’s place and then Derek reaches for a hypo that, irritatingly, isn’t there.

“Cut that shirt off for me while I get a couple hypos,” he demands. Boyd arches a sharp Vulcan eyebrow at Derek’s back as the doctor runs to ransack a nearby cabinet. Stiles’ amber eyes, unfocused and glazed over in pain flutter open as Boyd rips gently along the seam lines of his shirt.

“Boyd? Is everyone all right? Where’s Derek?”

“I’m right here, you _ass_ ,” the CMO says, arms loaded up with the special meds reserved for the Captain. Stiles is allergic to more medications than he’s not and though Derek would usually be bitching about how much of an inconvenience Stiles is he’s too relieved to see him alive to actually bother. “I told you something bad was going to happen. Didn’t I tell him, Boyd?”

“I believe you always tell the Captain, Doctor,” Boyd says as he uses the torn command gold to mop up as much of Stiles’ blood as he can before turning on his heel and heading for the door, depositing the shirt in a trash chute on his way out.

“Boyd,” Stiles calls, making the Vulcan stop just shy of the open sickbay doors. “Thanks for saving me down there.”

The First Officer nods at his Captain in acknowledgment, a small twitch of his lips serving as the only _you're welcome_ Derek’s sure Stiles will ever get, and then disappears. Derek’s knows Boyd is on his way to the bridge but is too busy jamming a hypo into Stiles’ neck to notice which direction the Vulcan actually turns once he’s outside of sickbay.

“Fuck!” Stiles shouts weakly but everyone pretty much ignores the Captain and his antics in favor of getting other stuff done. “Could you maybe be a bit more gentle, Derek? I’m in enough pain as is.”

“You wouldn’t be in any pain at all if you’d just listened to me in the first place,” Derek gripes, jamming a couple more hypos into Stiles on either side of the massive cut running the full length of his long torso. Derek can see bone and it’d make him sick if he wasn’t so damn used to the gore. He knows the drugs are starting to kick in when Stiles only murmurs quietly in reply, his eyes drooping heavily as Derek feels the warp drive kick in. A half second later the ship's onboard gravity gages balance things out and Derek breathes a sigh of relief. Whatever exploded down in engineering earlier must have been relatively easy to repair if Finstock managed to get them travelling at warp so quickly after they’d first been attacked.

Stiles is passed out completely, mouth open in an unattractive maw that Derek can’t help but smile at anyway, when Erica walks over from where she’s finished patching up a few ensigns. She takes one look at the Captain’s side and then pulls the empty hypos out of Derek’s shaking hands, trading them for the regenerator she’s been pretty much attached to since the start of all the madness.

“Fix him up and then head back to your quarters, Doctor. You're no use to us when you're exhausted." 

Derek nods at her, in both thanks and acknowledgment, but doesn’t say anything as he begins to run the regenerator up and down Stiles’ side in smooth, practiced arcs. The muscle and skin begins to mend together under Derek’s watchful eye but he doesn’t move from Stiles’ side until he’s absolutely sure the man is stable. 

Sickbay has mostly cleared out by the time Derek is finished, the only people remaining either knocked out and recuperating or cleaning up after the chaos of the past few hours.

At some point someone pushes a chair at him and Derek falls into it gratefully, his feet aching and his brain tired. He keeps watch until Stiles’ breathing evens out, his fear of a punctured lung dissipating as time continues to flit by.

***

When Erica walks past a half hour later she finds Derek fast asleep, head pillowed on his folded arms and the fingers of his right hand wrapped loosely around the pulse point in the Captain’s wrist. He's going to have a crick in his neck when he gets up in a few hours (and he'll probably gripe about it for the entire day) but Erica won't be sharing the Alpha shift with him so she leaves him be. 

She does, however, step in to Derek's office and put through a personal comm call.

When Boyd's face pops up on her screen a moment later she says, "The Captain is in stable condition, _sir_."

She's being cheeky and on any other day Boyd would have lectured her about the lack of professionalism but today ... today they are alive and their Captain is safe and instead of Boyd's eyebrows twitching, ever so slightly, in reprimand they're relaxing in relief. Erica beams at him through the padd and blows him a two fingered kiss, his _Thank you, t'hy'la_ hanging unspoken between them.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you wondering, this is listed as a Gen!fic because it's more a study of Derek in the role of Leonard "Bones" McCoy and Boyd in the role of Spock (the stoic but amazing Vulcan First Officer) than a tip of the hat to the handful of relationships mentioned above. 
> 
> Why? Because Niri and I had an enlightened discussion about whether or not Derek would be a better Spock or Bones and I set out to prove her wrong once she made it clear what camp she'd thrown her lot in with. Which isn't to say I don't love me some Spock!Derek ... I just think Bones!Derek would be pretty cool to see once in a while too. As for the Spock!Boyd, it seemed like a natural fit and I'd yet to see it in fandom so I threw some of that in as well because, as far as I'm concerned, Boyd needs to be in all the fic. Literally. 
> 
> All that said, if you liked what you read please don't hesitate to swing by [my tumblr](http://xinbimodu.tumblr.com/) and say hello! 
> 
>  
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoyed this little ficlet as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
